Shadows Of Our Feelings
by her-majesty-wears-jeans
Summary: Griffin draws the line at killing mindlessly, but that means she needs to draw a line between Valtor and herself, too... Pre-canon. Rated M for mild sexual content.


**This was originally supposed to be a part of a longer fic, but I realized that since this works well on its own and it'll probably take me the rest of the century to finish the longer project, I might as well post this now ;D**

**Anyway, happy reading! (Well, 'happy' is a subjective term... muahaha)**

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_"Thoughts are the shadows of our feelings – always darker, emptier, simpler." ~ Friedrich Nietzsche _

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The increasingly familiar emotion found Griffin the minute Valtor's back disappeared into the bright light shining from the other end of the portal he'd just walked into. It was an unsettling combination of apathy and restlessness that always left her wired yet exhausted and was uncomfortable enough that once Griffin had learned to associate the feeling with Valtor's absence, she'd tried to avoid separation as much as she could.

She was forced to sit this mission out, though. They were better together, the dark energy they could draw from each other formidable even by the Mistresses' standards. The realm of Caligos Valtor had just set off to, however, was high in magic but the ability to cast spells remained only in a few bloodlines. Hence Valtor could as well go solo and Griffin had begrudgingly stayed behind since her side hadn't completely healed yet from their last trip to the planet of Ecclesia.

They'd known to expect excessive light power that would weaken them both. What they hadn't been prepared for was a priest whose astral projections had been solid enough to be able to perform magic. The man had gotten a shot at her from behind when they had been focused on facing him off in the opposite direction. Valtor had shouted out a warning a little too late, and Griffin hadn't managed to get entirely out of the way.

Nursing her pride as much as the bruise that pulsed uncomfortably whenever she moved too fast, Griffin set her cup of herbal tea on a side table in the library and began browsing the book titles to find something to occupy her mind with and distract her from the uneasiness Valtor's absence had caused.

At first, she'd simply thought the agitation had been because of how hectic her life had gotten or perhaps the amount of energy she was surrounded with on a daily basis since she had started interacting with the other members of the Coven more; it had been known to happen that magic users' powers sometimes just clashed for no apparent reason. But once she hadn't been able to shake the feeling no matter how much she'd tried to ignore it, she had started to pay better attention to it, trying to pinpoint the cause.

It was like coming down with the mental flu; lingering anxiety that seeped into her skin coupled with faint nausea and chills that didn't leave her, niggling at the back of her mind. It was frustrating enough to have her challenge Valtor more often than usual. He'd been modifying her strategies all the time lately, ignoring her plans in favor of… she didn't know what exactly. Her plans generally involved less destruction and fewer casualties, and the collateral damage matched the potential gain, but they had been as efficient as Valtor's in terms of success.

He had always been the more reckless one out of the two of them. He was smart but had a tendency to be impatient, his command of one of the cardinal forces of magic making him arrogant and more willing to rely on his abilities than strategies in order to accomplish his missions.

Not that he really favored brute force over wits when it came to fighting. He'd countered even her most sophisticated plans in the beginning, when she hadn't known the variety of his skills and had been pulling back, just in case. He'd been so infuriating and so damn smug whenever he'd helped her up after knocking her to the ground that Griffin had had no choice but to make beating him her first priority. Each sparring match became an opportunity to study him. She'd created a back-up plan after another, planned countermoves for countermoves, waiting for her chance as patiently as her pride had allowed her to.

Once he'd pinned her to the ground one day, an unfortunate twitch as she struggled against him revealing he had been just as affected by her ragged breathing on his skin as she had been of his closeness, she'd known she'd had him.

She'd been in deep ever since. Valtor wasn't shy about the things he wanted; he wanted power, and he wanted her. Lucky for him, they weren't mutually exclusive – on the contrary, actually. Valtor had chosen her to be his partner, deemed her worthy to be at his side before he'd known her completely, but it had been only after she'd beaten him for the first time that he'd started to share his more sacred secrets with her. Share himself with her.

She hadn't paid attention to it in the past, but after that incident, they'd all but moved in tandem, giving in to their desire for each other while honing their skills as a pair. He was always around, and when he wasn't, his scent, his shadow, and his magic lingered on her as a reminder that he'd be back soon. Griffin wondered if the reason why she couldn't stand to be apart from him lately, the separation practically causing physical pain, could have to do with the fact that she associated him too keenly with the current part of her life. It would be in no way the same without him. Even though they all served the Mistresses, it had always been Valtor who she felt she really belonged with.

Griffin halted her hand on the spine of the volume she'd finally deemed interesting enough as she was hit with a thought that made an uncomfortable amount of sense.

What if it wasn't Valtor's absence that caused her distress but his presence that quenched it?

Heavens, she felt stupid.

She should've realized it sooner. She couldn't sense pain with him around – she could hardly breathe with him around. He numbed her senses whenever he came close enough, his allure like a cloud of smoke she couldn't see through. It should've set off alarm bells in her head, but she had been too heavily under his influence to notice how much he'd affected her. Blissfully delirious, she had chosen him over the reality.

She couldn't ignore the truth anymore. It was staring her in the face, as ugly and raw as its consequences.

She knew where they were headed; there had been a reason as to why Valtor's plans hadn't sat right with her anymore, and it wasn't just because they hadn't been hers. More casualties, more destruction for seemingly no reason…

She remembered the smirk he'd given her after defeating the priest, helping her to her feet. The gleam in his eyes that had morphed from worried to wicked when she'd insisted that she'd been fine. How he'd turned and without blinking, brought down the temple the priest had begged them to spare in exchange for a duel over the ownership of the Ecclesian staff. Griffin didn't know how many people had still been inside.

She had no qualms about killing when the situation called for it, but to destroy a sanctuary when they'd already won and the priest had, even in death, kept his end of the bargain and relinquished his magical claim of the artifact they had been after, had been unwarranted. She'd confronted Valtor about the decision, but she knew that her critique had neither fixed the situation nor prevented him from doing the same thing the next time. She believed she had a relative chance to change his mind every now and then, but as a rule, he was unfaced by protests, too used to getting his way.

Griffin didn't want to do things "his way", though. She hadn't joined the Coven to follow anyone; she'd only went along with Valtor because his aims had aligned with her own. Because he'd treated her as an equal. They were a team.

Except that it wasn't as cut-and-dry as that. Because she wasn't just his partner but also his lover.

She'd never before regretted mixing business and pleasure – why would she have when the passion they had for each other only made them work better together? Even the Mistresses had seemed happy they'd gotten along, seemingly refraining from controlling their relationship as long as they continued to be their go-to team. They were stronger, faster, more focused; the power they could wield together grew along with their need for each other. Magic was all about emotion, and Valtor was like Griffin's personal steroid, his dragon flame setting every cell of her body on fire.

And now she was suffocating.

He'd lured her in with power and promises, and she'd been bitter and ambitious enough not to question him. She'd been enamored by the notion of the two of them against the world, but she had no desire to take it _over_. She didn't know what Valtor was after, but he obviously had more in mind than he had at first told her, more than he was willing to tell her. She didn't want any part in his plans anymore.

Only that would mean-

A sudden sting in her finger momentarily overriding the growing sting in her heart, Griffin turned to look at the droplet of blood soaking into the side of the page she'd been stroking mindlessly.

Staring at the open volume in her hands, not seeing any of the scribbles running across the paper, she shook the pain off and cleaned the book with the same flick of her wrist. A glance at the clock had her disjointed mind acknowledge Valtor would probably be back soon, so she took the book and her teacup and sat down to the nearby table. Adopting a posture that wouldn't look like she was completely failing to focus on the text in front of her, Griffin rested her cheek on an upturned palm, tapping the table with her unharmed index finger as she waited for her world to turn back on its axis.

Valtor returned only a little while later. Despite having sensed his presence in the room, Griffin jumped slightly when his knuckles suddenly grazed her ear as he swept a piece of her hair behind her shoulder.

"The first scholar to allegedly report anomalous behavior among light magic users during an alignment involving two suns was a member of the Solarian court…" he read out loud from the spread in front of her. "That's fascinating. Are you planning on attacking heavenly bodies next?"

Griffin rolled her eyes at the sarcasm, closing the book. "It was keeping me company."

She let him draw her up and turned around, slowly forgetting the previous negative feelings as she took him in. Her gaze swept him from head to toe, looking for a sign of battle to guess what his opponents had been like but once again came up empty; you could never tell with a man who was so meticulous about his appearance. With not a hair out of place, his jacket without tears, his shoes clean, he looked exactly the same as he had when he'd left.

His face, however, clued Griffin in a little. She was almost certain it was just because he let her, but she seemed to always be able to read his mood through his eyes. The ice-blue eyes were capable of great warmth and intense heat, as impossible as people probably thought it was. It just wasn't directed to anyone but her.

"How was your trip?"

Valtor rolled his shoulders, smirking in the annoyingly self-assured way that still made her stomach flip every time. "Good. I even brought you a souvenir."

Griffin raised an eyebrow, the smile she'd been trying to suppress breaking free when she moved her gaze to the necklace Valtor was suddenly dangling from his hand.

"Oh", she inhaled, turning around per his indication so he could clasp it on her.

"There are arguments about whether this charm lures in or wards off black magic, so they kept it hidden in the heart of Caligos just in case. I'm rather intrigued to see which conclusion you'll come to."

Griffin looked down at the necklace that was nestled perfectly in the nest between her clavicles before picking it up and twirling it in her hand. The piece of jewelry was simple-looking but rather exquisite. On a delicate silver chain hung a string of onyx pearls; the surface of the black-and-white gemstones decorated with intricate engravings.

"Though I suppose that whichever the case, it should help with your side", Valtor added pensively.

His comment was simple and innocent enough, but Griffin had to prevent herself from visibly flinching at his words. She'd been amused by his remark about black magic, as she could imagine he'd been as well, but she peaked at his face, now wondering if he'd really had a reason to gift her the necklace aside from it being pretty.

"You're frowning, darling", Valtor said.

It wasn't a question, but it was his way of asking. Not having realized her thoughts had been showing on her face, Griffin hesitated for a second. Luckily, she had a lie ready to distract him. She brushed her hand against her left side, as if mindlessly, before shaking her head. "It's nothing."

Inwardly holding her breath to see if Valtor believed her, Griffin scolded herself. She needed to be careful, couldn't fool herself into thinking that just because she was closer to him than anyone else had managed to get, she could lie to him. He was an expert in manipulation himself; he could tear apart her lies in a heartbeat if she gave him even the slightest of reasons to doubt her.

To her relief, Valtor quickly covered her hand with his own, his touch gentle as he slipped their hands along the curve of her waist, having bought her show of blaming her distraction on the injury.

"It still hasn't healed?"

She looked up, startled to find his eyes waiting for her. She didn't even need to exaggerate for him that time around as she shook her head.

"Griffin…"

Valtor's voice had an edge to it Griffin didn't fully recognize as he spoke her name, but he was clearly expecting her to say something, so Griffin seized the opportunity to finally kiss him.

She wasn't significantly shorter than him with her heels, but she was barefoot now, so she rose to her tiptoes for leverage while connecting their lips. His mouth was warm against hers, like always, and as Valtor splayed his left hand against her lower back, Griffin lifted her palm to cup his face.

He had responded almost automatically, but when she tried to draw him closer and deepen the kiss, he suddenly pushed her away. Keeping a hold of her hand that he'd pried off his cheek, his gaze roamed up and down her body. The intense expression on his face was the same he had when translating ancient spells; Griffin was torn between rolling her eyes at him in exasperation and letting her heart flutter from the uncharacteristic display of concern.

"It's fine", she murmured, settling on doing both. "I want you."

In her head, she was pleading him to listen to her. She'd managed to fool herself when he'd been gone, but now that he was back, his hands on her, the hunger was potent as ever. Trailing her lips along his jaw, she repeated the reassurance.

Although the bruise left from the priest's spell was much lighter in color after her experiments with a few healing spells that morning, it was still sore – but when Valtor tightened his grip on her waist to pull her in for the kiss he'd broken off earlier, Griffin found she didn't mind it being touched if it was by him.

It had always been like that for them; pain and pleasure went hand in hand. It wasn't uncommon for them to resolve an argument on a physical level, nor to hesitate to play dirty to win. Control was something she could never seize with any ease or level of permanency with him, but it was one of the things she appreciated about him. More often than not, Valtor almost made up for the defeat.

Griffin, unusually, wasn't looking to lead this time. She knew she wouldn't win, not when she was distracted by the thoughts running through her head and Valtor had had a successful trip.

Wouldn't stop her from trying, though.

Stealing a kiss to distract him as she transported them to his room, Griffin reached for the buttons of Valtor's shirt, only to have her hand slapped away.

"You first", he growled.

"It's been equally long since I've seen you", she countered, finishing the row of buttons and pushing the shirt off of him. She let her hands roam his chest and shoulders appreciatively before securing her arms around his neck. Pausing to gaze into the eyes that would never look at her the same way again if she left, she kissed him hard, raking her nails against the back of his head. If she was a little hungrier or greedier than normal, Valtor didn't complain.

He undressed her quickly, yanking and pulling on her clothes until they fell to the floor and she had to step out of them and kick them away to avoid tripping. Even though his touch betrayed his eagerness, he didn't use magic. He never had, no matter how desperate they'd been for each other. Disrobing her was something he always did by hand.

Claiming the exposed skin, Valtor worked his way up from her hips with his hands and down from her face with his mouth. When he reached for the clasp of her new necklace, however, Griffin seized his hands.

"Leave it."

"It's in my way."

She arched an eyebrow. "Surely you can figure out how to work around it."

Valtor groaned, returning his lips to their previous place on her neck and biting down hard enough it would leave a mark. Griffin's hum of approval was tinted with amusement at the clear retaliation, which he most likely could hear as well.

Tilting her head to the side to give him better access, she closed her eyes. His soft caresses on her bare shoulders were near intoxicating. It wasn't pure hunger, nor just passion. There was more to it, she was sure. He didn't say it, but he told her so when he touched her. His hands were capable of such raw destructive power Griffin wondered if she should flinch at the contact, but the burn was pleasant, and instead, she ached for it.

Curving her body closer against Valtor's nearly subconsciously as she searched for his lips again, Griffin watched in fascination as the ice in his eyes melted like the skin she ran her hands across. It never failed to thrill her to reduce Valtor to shudders, the idea of being the one to make him lose control making her dizzy with desire. She'd never before realized how she ultimately gave him control with that. He played with people's minds with ease; was it any different when he played her body?

He'd wrapped her around his fingers as he did with strands of her hair. He rubbed his palm against her breasts, and it felt as if he clutched her heart. He locked her lips and her brain, preventing her from thinking straight.

What was he trying to do to her? Did he know that his touch was like a drug to her? He lingered in her veins and on her mind. She couldn't stay away from him even if she'd tried. He didn't make her want to stay away.

He had been too great a danger to be ignored but also too great a temptation to be avoided. Griffin had been keeping him at arm's length, from where she could just as easily push him away as she could pull him closer. She'd thought it had been a defense mechanism that had failed spectacularly, but she realized now it had worked too well. Telling herself she was keeping him at a distance had let her refrain from making an actual alliance with him, from submitting to him completely.

She couldn't play both sides anymore; Griffin knew she would have to choose. However, she was no closer to making the decision; she could hardly bring herself to admit one had to be made. Because, how could she? How could she assign values to the stakes in this instance? The universe couldn't expect her to make a decision this size just like that. It was unfair.

Desperate to stay in the present where there was trust and pleasure and the man who'd taken her to new heights instead of pain and uncertainty and moral dilemmas, Griffin clung onto Valtor's arms, her nails pressing down hard enough to leave marks she was sure he wouldn't mind. If this was it, if she'd never be allowed to have him again – if he'd never want her again – she would etch every second into her memory.

If this was it, he would be the only thing that could make up her mind. She was willing to give him a chance to convince her. There were a million reasons to leave, but he was the one that made her want to stay.

Valtor walked her backward and tugged on her hair to lay her down on the bed. Griffin couldn't silence the hungry whimpers the action drew from her even though there was a persistent part of her brain that was screaming she should be repulsed by his touch instead of enjoying it. Unable to connect the man whose breath on her skin was enough to make her arch into him with the mass murderer he was headed for, she closed her eyes in an effort to shut her mind down. Ironically, Valtor came to her rescue, all rational thought escaping her as he settled on top of her. Willingly giving in to his fire, Griffin let her heart and body take charge, just once, just until the morning.

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Griffin lay awake, unable to fall asleep even though her body was exhausted, and she felt like melting into the mattress. She was pretty sure Valtor was sound asleep next to her. He had his arm over her, the weight keeping her breathing even and preventing her from growing agitated by the thoughts in her head and waking him up.

Hating the silence yet enjoying it all the same, Griffin studied Valtor's sleeping form, her insides tender and fuzzy. They didn't actually sleep together very often although they certainly shared each of their beds quite regularly, so his presence was tempting but something made her leave the inches between them instead of pressing herself closer.

It was like time was irrelevant with him. Nothing could touch her; she was in a place where nothing could touch them. There was strategy and missions and the other members of the Coven and the weight of the Mistresses, but it was all somewhere else when he held her. If she closed her eyes, she could probably get back to that place she'd been in just a while ago.

She was sated in every sense of the word – except for the one pesky question that was running rampant in her head. She'd hoped Valtor would've helped her make up her mind, but since both the answers were unpleasant, all he'd managed to do was complicate things. Fitting, really.

He'd been making her life more complicated from the moment they'd met. But he'd also given her a purpose. A purpose she wasn't sure she shared anymore. She couldn't talk him out of it. She could cross him and sabotage the Coven for a while, but that wasn't a long-term plan. All that would accomplish was the guarantee of torture before her death once they'd catch her. No, she'd either stay and commit to them, or she'd leave and go against them.

Griffin was torn between the two choices, knowing leaving would break her heart while staying would eventually split her soul. Deep down, she'd probably made her choice long ago; she wouldn't have been looking for reasons to stay otherwise. She'd known what she'd needed to do, but she couldn't leave just like that, without saying goodbye in some way.

Leaving the Mistresses would be easy; leaving Valtor would be much harder. He was the only reason to stay Griffin couldn't write off. Power, staying alive, disrupting the balance, she could all think of counterarguments for. Not for him. There was no replacement.

The only question was if he was enough. He _could _be, Griffin thought, if what they had was real. It was a big "if" to base one's life on.

There was no doubt in Griffin's mind leaving would be a death sentence, but that would be only her; staying would mean condoning the deaths of thousands of people. Sure, she'd killed for the Mistresses before, but she was still able to keep count of the lives she'd taken. She doubted Valtor could say the same, even if he cared. He was blindly dedicated to his cause.

His ambition had been one of the things she'd fallen for, but she was starting to understand there were things she wouldn't do. She was worried Valtor didn't just draw the line higher than she did but that he didn't draw it at all. There was no extent he wouldn't go to, believing that if someone wasn't by his side, they were in his way. Griffin had witnessed that first-hand whenever she'd challenged his plans. Although she'd been right more often than not, the effort it had taken to convince Valtor had made her realize he wasn't ready to make an exception even for her.

The most powerful dark wizard in the realms saw things in black and white. There was irony there somewhere.

Griffin could hardly take the moral high ground, though. She'd tortured and murdered in the name of the Mistresses and a cause higher than herself. It didn't make her less responsible for her actions. She'd refused to cause more destruction than needed or to kill heedlessly even when their missions had barely resembled her original plans anymore, but she hadn't stopped Valtor from doing so, either.

She hated that Valtor had managed to influence her, his arrogance contagious, encouraging recklessness. She remembered every life she'd taken; realized she couldn't in good faith justify them all anymore. Griffin knew that most people, with their unrealistic and hypocritical ideas about right and wrong, wouldn't see a difference between having dozens of lives on your conscience and having hundreds or hundreds of thousands, but to her, the distinction made all the difference in who she saw in the mirror.

And that was exactly what gave her pause. Because she still cared. Griffin thought back to the ethics class in her senior year at Cloud Tower and the "choose the lesser evil" game she'd loved to challenge Faragonda with, and she knew she wasn't too long gone. She could still turn herself around. The first thing she would have to do was to leave. Leave Valtor.

It would be so much easier if her heart was darkened. Hardened. Unfortunately, as much as she loathed herself, it wasn't the case. She wished she didn't know what to do. She wished her heart was solid stone or ice-cold like they said Valtor's was. She wished she didn't think they were wrong.

She was shards on the floor, her heart in pieces by Valtor's feet. She hated how much he'd grown to mean to her. He'd stolen everything from her; the feelings she wasn't ready for anyone to awaken, the deepest parts of her she hadn't wanted to show to anyone. She'd used them to guard herself, but there had been no protection against Valtor. He was too used to getting what he wanted. And he'd wanted her.

Griffin squeezed her eyes shut before the intensity of her stare would burn holes into Valtor's face. How had her love life become tangled in a moral dilemma over the faith of the universe? Her heartbreak was supposed to be symbolic, metaphorical, not to put her or anyone else's actual lives on the line.

It would be easier if she didn't feel she was alone against the world with her decision. Rolling over and giving in to the urge to touch the man beside her – or maybe just tempting faith and hoping the universe would make the decision for her and wake him up – Griffin ran her fingers up his torso, pushing a piece of hair away from his face.

She briefly entertained the idea of trying to talk him into leaving with her but dismissed the idea soon enough. He'd only try to stop her. He was possessive, and she was his; she'd never let anyone really own her, but he came fairly close and he knew it. He wouldn't want her to leave, nor would he come with her. Even if he wanted, he couldn't, tied to the Mistresses in a way she didn't necessarily understand but believed him when he'd told her.

He'd miss her. She knew he would because she would miss him. The world without him would be less heavy, but it would be colder and harsher, too. There would be pain and darkness not too different from the pain they'd caused or the darkness that surrounded them, but that still made her flinch in a way the latter hadn't. Maybe it was because when she was Valtor, the darkness never felt suffocating but empowering. To a witch such as herself, his dark dragon flame burned bright. The warmth was comforting to her. Or it used to be.

With a sigh, Griffin laid back down on her side of the bed. Oddly, she felt like crying. A coldness she had never before felt in Valtor's presence spread through her as she let herself accept the truth. Chewing on her lip, she stared at the ceiling.

She had allowed herself a moment of doubt. She had given him a chance to change her mind. But she could only drown out her conscience momentarily. There was nothing to reconsider. Even when he'd been filling her, she'd felt empty; she knew she needed to leave.

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**Thanks for reading! I'd really appreciate it if you took a minute to let me know if you liked it.**


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